Message In A Bottle
by jenajasper
Summary: When Dean is hurting, Sam finds that words aren't always necessary


Sam felt like he was at the short end of a bad joke. He watched as the road signs slipped by announcing the distance to the next junction. Fifty miles, forty miles, thirty, twenty-five, he was waiting for the sign that read, 'you have just missed the junction'.

He turned to make this point to his brother. He really wanted to lighten the mood.

Dean had watched a man die today. A man they were unable to save. Not a demon, not a spirit, not a monster. He was just a plain, old ,ordinary, everyday human being. A man who had been caught up in something evil through no fault of his own.

It was hours later and Dean hadn't spoken one word beyond what was required to clean up and get going.

"Dean, say something."

Sam watched as his brother gripped the steering wheel tighter. The muscles in Dean's jaw twitched as he pressed his lips together and forced the air out through his nostrils. He never took his eyes off the road.

Sam reached over to rest a hand on his brother's shoulder. He felt the tension. He knew his brother was pulling everything inside himself. He was performing his own brand of self-punishment. He would take the blame, all of it, again.

"Please, talk to me, man. I can help."

Dean quickly turned his head and looked at Sam with an expression that would have sent a cold shiver through anyone else. It did, however, cause Sam to draw back his hand. Sam knew Dean wasn't trying to scare him away; he only wanted him to shut up.

Dean would always blame himself. He always felt responsible especially when it went wrong. "You can't save everyone..", He remembered being told that once by someone very wise to those things. It hadn't really helped him then, it wasn't working now.

Sam returned his hand to rest on his brother's shoulder.

"Dean", he said, "It wasn't your fault. we did all we could."

Suddenly, Dean turned off the road and into a mostly empty parking lot. They could see the small building that housed the waiting room and ticket office of the suburban commuter railway station. But, at this time of the night, they didn't expect any company.

Before he could speak, Sam watched his brother exit the Impala slamming the door behind him, hard. He knew it was more than was intended when he saw Dean's shoulders jerk, at the sound, as he turned to walk away.

Sam shifted in his seat, leaning his back against the passenger door, keeping Dean in his sight. He flung his arm over the top of the bench seat and it came to rest on Dean's jacket. He unconsciously grabbed a handful of fabric and rubbed it between his fingers.

He hated not being able to reach Dean when he started this dance. He never understood why his brother always felt that he needed to bear the brunt of it alone. He had his own theories about Dean trying to protect him, even to the point of saving him from the burden of responsibility.

In fact, Sam could usually reach him, at some point, and Dean would talk back, even if all he said was "Let it go, Sam" or "I'm fine." At least, Sam knew he was listening and Dean knew he wasn't in it alone.

Sam continued to watch as Dean slowly walked away from the car. He had his hands in his pockets and watched his feet as he stepped. Sam let his head fall back to rest against the window.

He lost sight of his brother, for a moment and lowered his line of vision. He noticed that Dean had stopped walking. Sam studied his brother's posture and felt an emotional reaction to the slumped shoulders and downcast demeanor.

Dean had experienced failure before. He had seen people die, people for whom he felt responsible. He couldn't explain, even to himself, what was so much more difficult about today. He hated cutting Sam off but, he just didn't know what to say to him. He knew Sam only wanted to help but, wasn't it his job to take care of them?

"Hey."

The sound of Sam's voice did two things. It caused Dean to lift his head and it helped to lift his spirits. He saw that smile, the one that reminded him of all that was right in the world. And it was powerful enough to cause Dean to raise one corner of his own mouth and put a little bit of light in his eyes.

Sam raised his arm, offering a flask. Dean raised an eyebrow, in surprise, until he realized that he had left his jacket behind. Sam took the first pull on the liquor then passed it to his brother who, in his turn, raised it in salute before indulging.

The two brothers stood, side by side, in that parking lot, and silently watched the skies.


End file.
